


You're My Home

by justthehiddles



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Lots of Crying, Someone gets fired, Tom is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthehiddles/pseuds/justthehiddles
Summary: You were stupid and let something private slip to a reporter about Tom.  He is seething and proceeds to kick you out of the place you called home.  Can the two of you find happiness and at what cost?





	1. He's Your Home

“Would you just listen to me for two seconds?” you yelled at Tom as he pushed past you in a rage. 

Tom whipped around, his face red. 

“What can you say to make this all right?”

You stood there, rooted to the spot. You opened your mouth only to close it again.

“I… I… I…”

“Let’s recap. You told details about our private life…” Tom tugged at his hair in frustration. “… to a reporter.”

You looked at the ground.

“Who printed it. Did I miss anything?”

“No.” you whispered. 

“How could you be so stupid?”

You bristled at the word “stupid. ”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

Tom walked out of the room and headed into the living room. He went straight for his coat and opened the front door. 

“Where are you going?” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Y/N. I am leaving for a few hours. When I get back, I don’t expect to see you here.”

Without another word, he slammed the door, leaving you stunned. The two of you started dating over two years ago and while it hadn’t always been sunshine and roses, you two always worked things out. But this was different. You never saw Tom so cold, so distant, so angry.

You realized the mistake talking to that journalist too late. The alcohol flowed like water at the event and one thing led to another. Before you knew what was happening, you let slip details about your personal life with Tom. Nothing too explicit but not something you would want splashed across Page Five. Which is what happened. Tom and Luke spent the better part of the morning doing damage control. 

Not wanting to push your luck, you packed an overnight bag and left a note on the counter, letting Tom know your hotel for the night. You hoped he would call later that night and ask you to come home and talk. Giving Bobby a quick scratch, you shut the door, wiping the tears from your face.

-

Tom didn’t call that night or the next one or the one after that. A week later, you received a text from Tom. 

Meet me at the house. Tonight after work. 6 p.m. 

As you climbed the stairs to the house you shared with Tom for the past year, the butterflies in your stomach were working overtime. Your brain scrolled through worst case scenarios as you turned your key in the lock and stepped in. The foyer was dark as was the living room.

“Tom?” you yelled into the void.

With hesitation, you ventured towards the dining room. You found Tom sitting there, his head in his hands. By his appearance, he was sleeping or eating much. 

“Tom?” you repeated, more soft and cautious.

He looked up at you with red-rimmed eyes, which narrowed at the sight of you.

“You should have knocked.”

“I have a key.”

Tom sighed as he rose from the table. You trembled at the silence hanging heavy in the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Tom winced at your words.

“I think you have apologized enough.”

You relaxed thinking Tom was ready to make amends.

“I’m glad you are coming…”

“I packed the rest of your things. You either take them with you now or I can ship them to your new home.”

“WHAT?” you screamed in a strangled cry. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“It’s over, Y/N.”

“Why? How?” you grasped for words, the room spun and your head grew light. 

“WHY? HOW? Oh, I think we have already covered all that! You broke my trust! My privacy is sacred to me and you threw it away like it was nothing.”

“It… was… an… accident.”

“I… don’t care. You can’t fix this. You can’t talk or apologize your way out of it. You need to go home.”

It felt like a hundred pound weight was crushing your chest. You found it hard to breathe or stand or talk. The tears flowed from your eyes like a river.

“But… but… you are my home.”

“Was. Goodbye, Y/N.”

Tom left the room as tears began to prick his own eyes. He rushed to the bedroom with the slamming of the door shaking you back to reality. You grabbed what you could and left an address on where to send the rest. You still hoped things could work out but that hope faded with each second.

Tom paced the bedroom before flopping down on the bed. He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand. He reached to the back corner and turned the small box over in his hand before opening it to reveal a ring.

“Stupid,” he cursed himself as he threw the box across the room and wondered if he would ever find happiness.


	2. Chapter 2 | She's My Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Tom try to pick up the pieces.

Three months. Three months since that day. Since your world crumbled around you. Since Tom kicked you out and sent your things to your mother’s. That’s where you stayed until you got your bearings. For the first few weeks, you lay in bed replaying the conversation over and over, torturing yourself. You looked for a sign from Tom, a text, a call. But none came. It was only under threat of termination you dragged yourself back into your office. But there was no joy in your work anymore, no joy in your life anymore. What you needed was Tom and without him in your life, there seemed little point in carrying on with work, socializing, and friends.

“Hello?”

You blinked as you looked up and saw your boss peering over your cubicle wall.

“Can I see you in my office?”

You didn’t move.

“Now.” he said more pressing.

You lifted yourself from your chair and followed him. This was not a good sign.

-

The ring remained on the floor for three weeks before Tom retrieved it. He realized he should get rid of the damn thing, pawn it, sell it, something but his heart wouldn’t let him. Getting rid of the ring meant no second chance, and Tom wasn’t ready to face that reality yet. Instead, he put the ring back in its place in the nightstand, hidden in the back underneath some papers. 

Tom’s schedule didn’t allow for moping. There was a new film to promote and rehearsals for a new production on the West End. By all outward appearances, the breakup didn’t affect Tom in the slightest. But those closest to him knew better.

“How are you doing today?” Benedict asked his friend from across the table.

These lunches became routine every week for the two of them when both were in town. Benedict asked the same questions and Tom gave the same answers. But it got Tom out of the house on his off days, which was saying something.

“Fine, Benedict. Just like last week,” Tom spat back, stabbing at his food. “And the week before that, and before that.”

“Calm down, Tom. It was a simple question.” Benedict leaned back from the table.

“How much longer do we have to continue this charade, Benedict? How long?” Tom’s anger rising.

Benedict took a moment to choose his words with care.

“When I believe everything is fine. Until then, the charade shall continue.”

Tom huffed before returning to his meal. He knew Benedict meant well, but he wanted people to leave him be. How could he move on when everyone insisted on drudging up the past? Relationships end, he went through break-ups before and after a mourning period, he always bounced back. 

“I don’t understand why you and Luke, my mother, insist on checking in on me like I am some child. I will get past this, let me work through this.” 

“It’s been three months, Tom. Luke told me you decline almost all invitations out and cancelled a trip to L.A. for next month. Whatever this is, is not working through it, mate. It’s stagnating.”

Tom shot a murderous glare at his friend. They ate the rest of lunch in relative silence, only talking work. Tom paid the bill, thank Ben, and walked towards home. Tom’s eyes welled with tears and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. This spontaneous crying was now a regular occurrence.

As he crossed the threshold, he heard the phone ringing. He ran to pick it up.

“Hey mate, how was lunch?” Luke cheered on the other end of the line.

“Fine.”

“That seems to be a stock answer these days. Care to give me a real one?”

Tom seethed at the phone. 

“No.”

“Call her.”

“No.”

“Fine. Text her.”

“Luke…” Tom shot back, “it’s over. Let it go.”

“You first.”

Tom sighed into the phone.

“I assume you called for some other purpose than to harass me about my love life.”

“Yes. You’re scheduled for an interview on Thursday regarding the play.”

“Of course. Email the information and I will look at it.”

“You got it.”

Tom ended the call and headed upstairs to the shower. The hot water stung his skin. Tom didn’t mind. The physical pain distracted from the aching in his heart. In these quiet times, Tom’s mind wandered. He thought about you, about that night, torturing himself with every detail. Tom thought back to those first few weeks when he would hold the phone in his hand, hovering over your number, only to toss the phone on the bed. 

Tom stood under the water until it ran cold. He changed into pajamas bottoms before checking his email.

“Fuck!” Tom recognized the name of the journalist for the interview.

The name of the screen was the same one you spoke to all those months ago. His stomach did a flip. He called Luke back.

“Tom, did you get the email?”

“I can’t do the interview.”

“Wait, it’s all set up…”

“Cancel it for me. Make up an excuse. Tell them…”

“No.”

“What? The last time I checked you work for me.”

“And it is my job to look out for your career and by extension, you. I’ve been making excuses for months. I’m not canceling the damn interview! Pull it together, mate!”

Luke ended the call without another word. Tom threw the phone on the bed, cursing.

-

“So Y/N, management has noticed a significant downturn in your work product these past several months.” your boss started as you sat down in his office.

“I had some personal issues,” you muttered, looking down.

“I’m aware. Some vague notion of a boyfriend and a bad breakup.”

You sniffled at the mention of Tom.

“I’m sorry…” you explained, but your boss held up his hand to stop you. 

“Listen. The company tried to accommodate… but there is no easy way to say this.”

You held your breath for the inevitable.

“We’re letting you go.”

You dropped your head and let the tears drop onto your blouse.

“I understand,” you choked out, “I’ll go pack my things.”

He walked you to your cubicle where a security stood standby to escort you out. It doesn’t take long to pack your things into a banker box. Security took you to the front door before taking your key card. You stumbled out the front door and headed to the nearest Tube Station. As you crossed the intersection, you didn’t notice the truck barreling down the road until it was too late.

-

Tom forced a smile as the interviewer shook his hand.

“Nice to have you here.”

“Happy to be here.” Tom lied.

Tom did his best impression of a happy, well-adjusted actor. After what seemed like hours but in reality only minutes, the interview ended. He got up to leave but the journalist grabbed his shoulder.

“Tom, this isn’t part of the interview but how is Y/N, I haven’t heard from her in months.”

He winced.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I hope that has nothing to do with the article I printed.” he prattled on.

Tom narrowed his eyes.

“Why?”

“Y/N drank a lot that night. She wasn’t aware of what she was saying.”

Tom’s face paled. You never mentioned alcohol during your fight.

“The next morning she called me, begging me to not print anything. But by then, my colleague already told my editor. It was out of my hands.”

Tom sat back down afraid of fainting. As if on cue, Tom’s phone rang. It was your number.

“Excuse me.” Tom ran out into the hallway.

“Y/N.” Tom answered, his voice trembling.

“Is this Tom?” a strange voice asked on the other end.

“It is. Who is this?”

“It’s ED at Charing Cross. There’s been an accident.”

Tom dropped his phone as his knees gave out. It took him three minutes to pick up the phone and only two to get into the car to get to you. 

-

Once Tom got to Charing Cross, he shouted at the nurses to tell him your room number. Under normal circumstances, they allowed only family but they made an exception for him. He entered the room to see you hooked up to machines. The only sound in the room was the ventilator and the beep of the heart monitor. Tom crumpled into the chair next to the bed. He took your hand into his. It was cold.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Tom strangled out as the tears flowed down his face. “It’s my fault. You never should have been out there on the street.”

His pleas answered by the steady beep on the monitor.

“I fucked things up. That night. I should have listened to you. Given you a chance to explain. I know now it wasn’t your fault, that you tried to fix it. I’m sorry. If, no, when you pull through this, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please wake up.”

Tom sobbed not caring about making a scene. 

“God, I have a ring. But I need you to wake up so I can give it to you. I need you to wake up so you can be my wife, be my home.”

“I didn’t know, mate.”

Tom whipped his head to the door to see Benedict.

“How?”

“Luke. You bought a ring?”

“Yeah. Even after we broke up, I couldn’t bear to get rid of it.”

“Because that meant it was over for real.”

Tom nodded and Benedict stood up by Tom, squeezing his shoulder hard.

“I can’t lose her, Ben. Not again. Not now, not after finding out the truth. That she…”

Tom broke into tears before finishing the sentence. Benedict squeezed again as Tom turned to bury his face into his friend’s chest.

The doctor walked in soon after to update Tom. 

“First 24 hours are critical.”

Words sailed past Tom but Benedict asked the questions.

“But will she wake up?”

“It’s hard to tell. She suffered significant internal injuries. We stopped the bleeding and made the repairs, now it is up to her.”

Tom squeezed your hand. Nothing.

Benedict asked a few more questions and then the doctor left. Benedict stayed to make sure Tom was okay and took his leave.

“Call me if you need anything. Any time day or night.”

Tom squeezed Benedict’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“She’ll pull through. She’s a fighter.”

“I hope so.”

Tom called your mom, but she was on vacation out of the country. She booked a flight back but she wouldn’t get in until tomorrow night. Tom sat in the chair all night, only leaving to use the bathroom and grab a coffee. Nurses came in to check your vitals throughout the night. If anyone recognized Tom, no one said a word.

“It helps for them to hear your voice.” one nurse suggested. 

Tom thanked her. He pulled out his phone and opened an app.

“You always loved when I read to you.”

Tom read you poetry into the night. Around three in the morning, Tom was at the point of exhaustion. His tears long dried up. He climbed into the bed next to you, cradling you in his arms. His voice was hoarse from all the poetry. 

“Another summer day is come and gone away in Paris and Rome.” Tom sang in a whisper.

Home was your song. Tom played it for you before every work trip. He said it was to remind you no matter where he went or how long the trip, you were his home. He would always come back.

“Let me go home. I’ll be home tonight. I’m coming back home.” 

Tom sobbed into the pillow. Your eyes fluttered open. There was something in your mouth, preventing you from speaking. With great effort, you placed a hand on Tom’s cheek, stroking his stubble. Tom looked at you shocked. He jumped from the bed.

“NURSE!”

-

It took a month for your release from the hospital and another three months to rehab from your injuries. Tom proposed two days after you woke up. He said he wasn’t living another second without you. He came to the hospital every day. Now six months later, the two of you were standing in a church in front of family and friends getting married.

“… why they may not be lawfully joined together, speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Tom looked back, giving everyone his most threatening Loki look.

The ceremony continued on without a hitch. Everyone cheered when the priest announced “you may kiss the bride.” Tom and you walked out of the church hand in hand into the Jaguar waiting to take you to the reception. Tom kissed you again in the backseat.

“My wife. I like the sound of that.” Tom kissed you again and again.

“You better, stuck with me now.”

“With pleasure.”

Tom reached into the front seat as the driver took off. He pulled a bottle of champagne and two flutes. He popped the cork and poured two glasses.

“I better not,” you pushed the offered glass away.

“Darling, are you…” Tom let the words hang in the air.

A smile spread across your face and you nodded.

“I took the test this morning.”

Tom pulled you into an embrace.

“I’m going to be a father.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Thank you.” Tom said as he kissed your forehead. “And you,” he pointed to your stomach, “Be nice to your mother. She’s gone through hell.”

“Tom! Language.”

The two of you fell into a heap of giggles before discussing names and nursery themes. You danced the night away with your husband and no one was the wiser, but Benedict swore he knew that night. No one believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is inaccurate to crawl into the bed in the ICU. Went for romantic rather reality. Because reality sucks sometimes.


End file.
